


Fall Asleep Under the Stars, Antonio

by LittleMissStark



Series: Under the Stars in Italy [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, No character bashing, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 02:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13871454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissStark/pseuds/LittleMissStark
Summary: He knew he could go inside and seek out Steve, ask him to big spoon him, wrap his warm arms around him so that he could feel safe and secure. But then he thought about the disappointment he had heard in Steve’s voice, the utter, heartbreaking belief that Tony was really that pathetic, and it broke him.So he stayed frozen for a few more seconds, breathing heavily, before he realized that he had to get out of the Compound. He had to leave.A strange, scary thought that had simmered in the back of his mind for far too long finally came to the forefront: maybe less lives would be ruined if he… if he just disappeared.





	Fall Asleep Under the Stars, Antonio

**Author's Note:**

> This is the prequel to "Love and Other Drugs". I recommend reading it before reading this. Fair warning to whoever it may apply to, "Love and Other Drugs" is not a Team Cap friendly story. 
> 
> Also, please be mindful of the tags for any trigger warnings.

He hadn’t done it on purpose. Really, it was an accident--overhearing the others and almost walking in on them while they were knee-deep in an intense conversation. He should have known better. 

Except.

It wasn’t an accident that Tony stayed standing there, right outside the door. That was a decision he made all by himself. 

* * *

 

 

 

It had been a good day. There was a sense of calm, a strange sort of peace and ease that seemed to settle on his shoulders that morning, much like a light shawl or a warm blanket. Anxiety was his middle name, but that day, he woke up without a heavy weight pressing down upon his chest. Tony didn’t know what force in the universe decided that he was allowed to take a break so that he may able to hear another voice, watch a movie, or go outside without being strangled by an omnipresent, impending feeling that he was going to die. 

There was something liberating about not having to look over his shoulder or feel his heart beating so hard and fast, he feared it might burst. 

So he got through the day by finalizing the blueprints for the new War Machine armor, now modified to support Rhodey’s still healing spine, finishing up Natasha’s Widow bites and new knives, and listening to Peter Parker’s latest adventures via his irritated, former ‘Fore’ Head of Security. There was a skip in his step, a new motivation. He couldn’t explain it even if someone asked. 

No one had, but that one was on him. Tony was a master at avoidance, so the majority of his day he spent cooped up in his workshop, where Steve, surprisingly, didn’t visit in order to coax him out. 

Tony remembered the events of the night before both with a satisfied and hopeful, crooked smile and a dull, throbbing phantom ache that pulsed through his veins and arteries. Steve was gentle with him last night. He was loving and kind and beautiful. 

For a moment, Tony was transported back to Italy, back to that small town his mother loved so much as a child and Tony himself had come to love as an adult. A love he shared with Steve, once. He still heard her voice, melodious and soothing in his ears, saying “fall asleep under the stars, Antonio. Listen to how the sky whispers.”

And he did. 

Anyway--

The day soon delved into a series of accidents. The last one being the aforementioned one, but that was only the grand finale to a chain of events he had not seen coming.

* * *

 

 

 

The first mistake he made was leaving the Compound that evening. 

When Tony went out in his Audi with the purpose of visiting the city so he could get some of his favorite donuts for himself and the others, he didn’t think about how he had woken up that morning in Steve’s arms--the morning after Steve asked him a harrowing question that had killed him to answer--and he didn’t feel the same warmth, the same security as he had years before. 

_ “I would have married you, you know? I was going to propose.”  _

_ “I would have said yes… Back then.”  _

_ “And if I asked you now? Tony?”  _

_ A sigh. “I wouldn’t say no… But I wouldn’t say yes, either.”  _

He shuddered before starting the car, an agonizing chill traveling up his spine. 

Tony couldn’t seem to collect his thoughts effectively enough to understand how he felt about Steve Rogers, whether or not he was ready to forgive him, and what it meant that they had slept together the night before: a night he unconsciously planned in his mind, even though he denied, even to himself, that he knew Steve was going to be at the hot tub. 

As he drove into the city, he thought about the  _ why  _ on his part. Was it just sex? No. Dr. Harmon said it wasn’t. Tony himself didn’t think it was. Especially… well, especially after what Ross did to him on the Raft. 

It was hard to get the words out nowadays too. The three words that always got stuck in his throat whenever Steve said them to him, expecting to hear it back. It would kill Tony every time he opened his mouth, gaped a little stupidly, and then shut it tight, unable to simply return the three words he once found to be the easiest thing to say to Steve. But it was watching Steve lower his eyes, back away, and sigh a little that clenched at Tony’s heart. The same disappointment, the same… shattered hope Tony knew he was the cause of--it left him defeated and weary all at once. 

He pulled up to the local donut shop, turned the engine off, and sat in his seat. He breathed in and out slowly, straining himself in order to reign in his thoughts as they flew from one end of his brain to the other. “Fuck,” he breathed heavily, bracing his hands on the steering wheel and leaning forward to drop his forehead on the top of the wheel. 

Did he feel ashamed for last night? No. Did he regret it? No. Did he  _ want _ to regret it? Maybe. 

Tony thought of all the times he said no. He thought of all the times dark memories, terrors of the past, would come slithering back from the back corners of his mind where he stuffed everything into, much like the inevitable “throw everything in there” closet everyone seemed to have. Every time he’d feel nauseous, when the memories and the panic managed to punch him in the gut just hard enough, he’d call it off. 

But he kept going last night. He let Steve touch him. He let Steve back inside of him, let himself be vulnerable to a man he wasn’t sure he loved anymore, and the same question of  _ why  _ kept coming up, and Tony--Tony knew exactly why. 

He threw the door open, his chest suddenly tight and his stomach roiling. 

God damn it, it’d been such a good day. ‘A progress day’ as Dr. Harmon would call it. And then his mind had to go fuck it all up by reminding him--reminding him of what he wanted to do… what he wasn’t certain he still wanted to do. 

The complex weavings of his own mind chipped away at him, and he heaved for breath before beginning to chuckle. 

It was funny, wasn’t it, how fast he could go from thinking about donuts to… to… hating himself.   

The chuckle soon developed into full blown laughter, and pretty soon, Tony was cracking up over the ridiculousness of it all. But that laughter led to a stinging behind his eyes, enough to make his vision blur and his entire body sag with fatigue. He was tired of working his mind to the ends of the Earth to try and figure himself out. He was tired of juggling his emotions back and forth, with wanting to decide just how much the ‘Civil War’ left him feeling exhausted and unwanted and… and like nothing. He still felt that way, maybe. Definitely. 

Tony slammed the door closed behind him and walked into the donut shop. The sweet smells of the pastries brought warmth and comfort. Strangely enough, he felt safe again, a feeling that had long since gone from the confines of the Compound. 

“Antonio!” Greta, the nice, little old lady who owned the shop immediately rounded the corner to cup Tony’s cheeks and gently kissed each one. “It’s been such a long time. Tell me, do you want the usual or are you in the mood to try something new?” 

_ I’m in the mood to shut the voices in my head up. I’m in the mood to simply end it. I’m in the mood where I--I don’t know--want a hug or something--God, I gotta call Rhodey. So you tell me Greta: is it the usual or am I trying something new?  _

But Tony managed to twitch his lips up in a lopsided excuse for a smile. “You’re too good to me, Greta. I’ll just have a glazed donut and a small coffee. Oh, and pack a dozen in a box too, please.” 

While the older woman shuffled around getting everything prepared for him, Tony tried his hardest to ignore the sharp, prickling sensation behind his eyes, which signaled the beginnings of a headache. Not to mention the inevitable, lurking tears he repressed. 

He thought about the argument he and Steve had had: the flailing arms, the sobbing, the screaming, the begging. Another mistake.

_ “You want me to have sex with you?  When I can’t even look at your face without seeing the look on it when you were driving a vibranium shield onto my head and my chest as if I wasn’t the man you said you would never hurt, who you would always love and protect! When I can’t get past the coldness in your eyes when you said that you  _ **_knew_ ** _ what he did and you still beat me and beat me and beat me and when your best fucking friend was ripping the arc reactor out of my chest, which  _ **_you knew_ ** _ terrified me because of what Stane did, you stood by and you  _ **_encouraged_ ** _ him!” _

“Antonio?” Tony snapped back to attention, eyes glassy and a little unfocused, when Greta called his name. She held out a box and a plastic cup while his own donut rested on the counter on a napkin. “Are you alright,  _ tesoro _ ?” 

It took him a second before he offered a soft smile. “I’m fine, Greta.” She eyed him up and down, taking in his faded jeans and sweatshirt. “Thank you.” As he reached out to take his order, the woman took one of his hands in both of hers. Her gray eyes were earnest and compassionate. 

_ “Va bene essere tristi.”  _ She said softly before giving his hand a small squeeze. 

Tony dropped his gaze, willing himself not to cry. “ _ Grazie,”  _ he breathed, squeezing back. She let go, looking at him with nothing but warmth. 

He left her a huge tip, as per usual, and was just about to head out when he heard from behind him: “You’re a good man, Antonio.” Tony stopped in his tracks before turning around and nodding towards the old woman. The tiny bell on the top of the door frame jingled when he left. 

He sighed when he clambered back into the car. Her words rang in his ears and yet, the shadow of weariness that had yet to fall upon him all day finally cascaded atop his shoulders in full force. 

The batch of donuts sat beside him in the passenger seat while his coffee and own donut were in his hands. Tony wasn’t so hungry anymore and for some strange, inexplicable reason, having the sweet, freshly made dough in his hand felt like the least appetizing thing in the entire planet. His stomach revolted at the idea of eating because his mind sat at the control panel of his body, and his mind was telling him that he didn’t deserve that goddamn donut. He didn’t deserve to appreciate how good it tasted, he didn’t deserve Greta’s reassurances in his mother’s native language, he didn’t deserve the night he had had with Steve, he didn’t… he didn’t deserve to be alive--

Tony set the donut down on top of the dashboard with shaking hands before running them through his hair over and over again. He took a sip from his coffee instead, wishing that Greta could have poured some rum in there to spice it up, and then instantly regretted it. It tasted like bile on his tongue and it took all of his effort to keep from spitting it back up. The plastic cup went in the cupholder, still full to the brim.

* * *

 

 

 

His second mistake was getting out of the car. He left FRIDAY manning it before he set off onto the streets of New York. 

It was getting late. The sun had set already and now the streets were dark, and since Tony wasn’t in the main part of the city, but rather in the run-down part of it, the alleys were eerie and quiet. 

Tony walked sluggishly, dragging his steps and watching his breath curl in the cool air. Street lights flickered and neon store signs offered sparse illumination. There were police sirens in the distant and the barking of dogs nearby as Tony walked on. 

His phone vibrated in his pocket several times and Tony caught the screen light up to Steve’s name. He swiped the messages away and denied the call. He stopped for a second, and then turned the damn thing off. 

Steve… God, Tony didn’t know anymore. 

Tony had always been a person desperate to know and understand the 5 W’s inside and out regarding every situation. But with Steve--he just can’t tell. And that tore him apart. 

The one thing he had done right was go to Barnes first. 

_ “I… um… I overreacted.”  _

_ “I’m sorry… what?”  _

_ “In Siberia. I overreacted.”  _

_ “Stark…”  _

_ “Damn it Barnes, this is already hard enough as it is. I’m trying to apologize here, alright?” _

_ “You don’t…”  _

_ “I overreacted and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to blow off your arm and I shouldn’t have attacked you. I… should have listened. Should have listened to Steve and… yeah…” _

_ “You didn’t overreact Stark. You did what any human being would do.”  _

_ “I don’t get it, you know? King T’Challa did the same thing to you for the same reason as me, although he got it wrong and you… The Winter Soldier actually did… but I…I’m always… hell, what am I saying? T’Challa’s a good man and a good king. I’m… I’m a killer.”  _

 Tony remembered rushing off before Barnes could say a word. He remembered feeling partially relieved, proud of himself even, but then partially as if his entire being had collapsed upon itself. He remembered the metal arm wrapped around his mother’s throat, crushing it, taking her away from him forever. 

The night grew colder and Tony only had a sweatshirt. He wrapped his arms around him and kept going, facing the biting cold headon. He didn’t know where he was going or how long he’d stay out for. He didn’t know when he’d go home or if he even wanted to go home. Where was home for him nowadays? He used to think it was Steve’s arms. The Tower was sold and the Compound… everyone in the Compound hated him. 

Harsh words, despite his denial, cut deeper than his physical scars. 

Yet, those harsh words felt like what he deserved every time he would look into the eyes of the Barton children, into the pain laced deep in Maggie Lang’s eyes whenever her daughter, Cassie, would bombard her with the same question she could never answer: ‘When is Daddy coming home?’

There were two men coming in his direction. Tony dropped his head, trying to hide his face even more underneath his hood. The men’s voices were muffled, and Tony quickened his step a little bit, determined to walk past them without any trouble. He tried to focus on the way his breath looked like that of a dragon’s, and his mouth twitched upwards in amusement. 

“That a Rolex on your wrist, bud?” Tony heard from behind him as he passed by. The man slurred his words, obviously drunk. Tony stuffed his wrists in his pockets before picking up the pace. 

A strong grip on his forearm stopped him. “Come on man, I asked you a question. That a Rolex on your wrist, or not?” 

“I don’t want any trouble.” It was hard to keep his voice from wavering. The watch he was wearing  _ wasn’t  _ a Rolex, it was a Jaeger. It was also the watch that could turn into a gauntlet, and he wasn’t going to give that up any time soon. 

His body was whipped around forcefully by the strong grip. “It’s a yes or no question, goddamnit.” His hood was flipped back. Tony held his breath, but kept his head down. The grip on his forearm softened for a second. “Aren’t you that billionaire guy who flies around as a superhero. Iron Man or some shit? Hey Devin,” Tony was pushed forward, almost falling onto his hands and knees, “ain’t this that rich man your kid loves so much?” 

A rough hand gripped his chin and jerked it upwards. Devin was a middle-aged man with a greying beard and a scar up the side of his face. The look in his eyes was malicious. “Well damn,” Devin murmured, still gripping Tony’s chin, “look at that, Nick. We got ourselves a billionaire. And he’s wearing…” Devin gently lifted Tony’s wrist to observe the watch in the light, “a state-of-the-art, pristine-condition,  _ Jaeger. _ ” 

Tony’s breath was loud in his ears as Devin stepped closer, wrapping his whole hand around his watch. “You don’t mind sharing the merchandise with us lower middle class, now do you?” 

With a small, but powerful tug, Tony tried to shake himself loose. Devin tightened his grip. “I told you,” Tony grunted as he yanked backward and pushed the other man away from him so that he could unfold his gauntlet, “I don’t want trouble. I’m just passing through.” Devin and Nick watched with hard, squinting eyes as the previously unarmed billionaire raised his hand, now encased in a layer of metal, the palm glowing and ready to fire. 

“What business does a rich man like you have here anyway?” Nick barked, standing tall in the path of the gauntlet. “There are people starving on this side of New York. Lots of them don’t have beds to sleep in or a roof over their heads and you just waltz in here wearing your shiny, expensive watch and act all entitled and shit? Fuck that.” He spat at Tony’s feet. 

“My kid doesn’t get it now, but he will one day. He’ll learn to hate people like you who walk around in Versace and fly around in expensive metal armor calling themselves heroes while people like us lose jobs and homes. You sit at the top, thinking you do good, when you really just ruin lives.” Devin curled his fists, but he didn’t step closer. 

Tony dropped his gauntlet, the small illumination on the middle of his palm dimmed. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “I’m sorry… for whatever pain I may have caused you. I… I can make a donation, let me help you.” 

“Suck my dick, you rich fuck!” Nick roared, jolting forward, but Devin pressed a hand on his chest, holding him back. Tony winced, backing up a couple of steps with tears stinging in his eyes. Everywhere he turned, he realized he hurt someone, killed someone. Bodies have dropped because of him. People have starved because of him. 

“When you and your costume party wreaked havoc on New York in 2012, my boss’ company was hired to clean up the mess. Then, with no warning, within  _ seconds,  _ we were out of a job. Why? Because Stark Industries was taking over! My son--” Devin ground his teeth and stepped forward, nostrils flaring, “I still let him think you’re a hero. Small mercies and everything, because if he  _ knew-- _ if he knew that  _ you _ were the reason why his Daddy couldn’t buy him a birthday present that year, that  _ you _ were the reason why we didn’t have dinner some nights, that  _ you _ were the reason why our family was destroyed and torn apart, then he’d  _ hate _ you. He’d spit on your image every time you were on the news, just like his Daddy!” 

A shadow fell across Tony’s eyes. A seed of self-loathing planted itself in his stomach and blossomed like an inky, black storm cloud. There was suddenly not enough air. Tony forgot how to breathe. 

Third mistake: opening his mouth once more. 

“Please--” he cried out to their retreating backs. They froze mid step and Tony caught the malevolent, bloodthirsty glints in Devin and Nick’s eyes. “Let me help you.” 

It was Devin who stalked back toward him, clenching and unclenching his fists. Nick stayed standing away, eyes lined with red and cheeks rosy with rage. “The only thing you can give me--” Tony began stepping backwards, thinking the man was going to punch him as Devin raised an arm, “--is your pride.” 

Tony gasped, his breath shuddering as a violent grip grabbed his ass and squeezed. “No, no, no, no  _ please.”  _ Tony begged, praying the man would let go. “ _ Please.  _ Don’t.” 

“Even when I spit on your face, I always did think you had a pretty one.”  Devin sweeped a hand across Tony’s forehead, brushing the hair back almost gently. The hand traced downwards and Tony struggled, pushing back, trying so hard to  _ get away.  _

“Devin, come on man. It’s not worth it. Let’s leave him. We said our pieces,” Nick pleaded his friend, but to no avail. 

Tony knew he could fight back. He knew he could use his training to put Devin on the ground, and then his gauntlet to keep him down, at least so he could escape. But then he thought of the man’s son. He thought of what he had said, how he had ruined a little boy’s life and still, that little boy admired him, idolized him. 

Tony thought of Cassie, Lila, Cooper, and Nathaniel and how their fathers were taken away from them too. Maybe in the past, Devin had been a good man. Now, it was because of him that Devin was so vindictive, so  _ angry.  _ His son lost his father too. All because of him.  

He thought of Charlie Spencer, a son taken away from his mother because of him. 

So the gauntlet stayed unused as Tony was thrown against a wall by the neck. 

“Devin!” Nick bellowed from behind. 

“Hey--” Tony started, looking the man in the eyes and wincing when his groin was groped, “think of your son. Don’t do this to him.” 

“Don’t talk to me about my son!” Devin tightened the grip on his throat and Tony squeaked at the loss of air. “Not so much of a hero now, are you?” 

Before he could go any further, Nick, who had stood idle the entire time, yanked his friend back by the shoulder, hissing, “the cops are down the street.  _ Let’s go,”  _ before sprinting the other direction, dragging Devin in tow. 

In the midst of a foggy brain and gasping for breath, Tony made out the pinpricks of red and blue in the distance, signaling a police car. He didn’t want a news story made out of… out of whatever had happened, so he ran back through the alley he’d come from. 

He ran and weaved through street after street. He thought he was going back in the direction of his car, but he changed his mind halfway. 

Ten minutes later he found himself standing outside of Peter Parker’s apartment building. The adrenaline had flushed out of his system, and in the dim street light, Tony collapsed onto the steps of the building and buried his head in his arms. He thought about taking out his phone, turning it on, and calling the teenager, just to see if he was alright, if he was safe. He didn’t know why he had to, but it was a nice distraction, a nice way to stop thinking about what could have happened…  _ again.  _

He had to… had to  _ stop thinking about it.  _

Mistake number four: closing his eyes while sitting on those steps, his heart beating a hundred miles a second.

 

 

 

_ The first time a guard touched him while he was locked in a jail cell on the Raft, the guard told him that his family died in Sokovia. Tony fought back regardless, using the training Natasha had taught him years back.  _

_ Tony was held down by another guard while face down on the floor as he was sexually assaulted.  _

_ He spent three weeks in the underwater prison, praying someone would come save him the same way Clint, Wanda, Sam, and Scott were saved.  _

_ The day he was released, Rhodey was there to come and pick him up.  _

_ “I’m sorry,” Rhodey cried into his neck as they hugged, “I kept hiring and firing lawyers, no one was good enough. Matt Murdock pulled through for us. I’m sorry Tony, I know you’re tired. But we have to take Ross to court.”  _

_ They did take him to court.  _

_ They only won after Tony hacked into the Raft’s CCTV footage and found what he needed.  _

_ After winning and sending Ross and those guards to prison, including the one whose family was murdered in Sokovia, Tony locked himself in his room for a week.  _

_ He couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed.  _

 

 

 

His phone was still off and he knew Rhodey and Steve would be freaking out. He also knew that the second he turned his phone on, one or the other would turn the corner and drag his pathetic ass home, and he just wasn’t ready to face either of them and explain to them why he was crying. 

Taking one last glance up at the floor Peter lived on, Tony set off down the street towards the 24 hour deli where there was a payphone. 

The man behind the counter was wearing headphones, and he paid no mind to Tony as he entered.

It was alarming to see just how much his hands were shaking as he slipped coins into the pay phone, especially how hard it was to keep his hands steady so that he could hold the phone by his ear. 

“This is Rhodes.” Even when he sounded stoic and professional, it was always such a relief to hear his honeybear’s voice.

“Hey Rhodey.” He couldn’t help the small voice crack that slipped out amongst red, puffy eyes and streaming tears. 

“Tony, where the hell have you been? I’ve been going crazy, worrying all day. Steve’s driving everyone nuts, and you won’t answer your damn phone.” 

“It died.” 

“Bullshit.” Rhodey sighed and Tony took to absentmindedly twisting the wire of the pay phone with his fingers. “Just tell me where you are, and I’ll come get you. Then you’re going to tell me where you’ve been all day.” 

“I… I’m fine, Rhodey. I have my car with me and… and donuts for everyone. I’ll be back in half an hour or forty five minutes.” 

“You think telling me that you bought everyone donuts is going to cover up the fact that I know you’re crying?” Rhodey’s tone was soft and gentle now. Tony wanted nothing more than to let his voice lull him to sleep. Rhodey always knew, he was always there. “Come home, alright? I’m timing you down to the second, Stark.”

Tony smiled and wiped at his cheeks. “I’ll be back in forty-five. Promise.” 

Another mistake: making promises.  

* * *

 

 

 

“Where’d you get that?” Rhodey absentmindedly took the box of donuts from Tony, the ones that had long gone cold. Tony’s own donut, which he had left on the dashboard, was thrown in the trash, half-eaten, because he felt too damn nauseous. 

“These? I got them from Greta’s. You know, the nice old lady who owns the small store on 22nd street in the city? They were warm before, but I left them in the car for a bit and… yeah. Sorry.” Tony tried not to think about what happened afterward, which of course, was a way of thinking about it. 

Rhodey only frowned at him. “I meant the bruise on your neck, Tones.” 

Tony inhaled sharply before reaching up with a hand to massage the patch of black and blue on his skin that he didn’t know he had. “Oh I just… I fell in the workshop this morning. You know how I’m a klutz.” 

His best friend stepped closer, wrapping a gentle hand around his bicep, and Tony flinched. “Who hurt you?” Rhodey asked quietly. Tony dropped his gaze. “Was it… was it Steve? Tell me right now, Tony, I swear to God if he put his hands on you, I’ll kill him.” 

“No!” Tony’s pupils were blown as he snapped his head back up at his friend. “Jesus. Steve didn’t hurt me, okay? Calm down.” 

“Then who the hell did?” Rhodey hissed as he dropped his hand from Tony’s bicep. “I’ve spent way too many years with you to not know what it means when you flinch the second I touch you.”   

Tony stayed silent while Rhodey went to go set the box of donuts down. Those damn donuts. Tony hated that those donuts, made with so much love and tenderness from Greta, were now being cast aside and forgotten. 

“There was a man and his friend--” Tony began steadily enough, but when Rhodey turned back towards him with such deep empathy in his eyes, it was hard to continue, “--the man has a kid. The kid looks up to me, but his dad h-hates me be-because…” He couldn’t get the rest of the story out. 

Rhodey enveloped him in a tight hug before Tony fell apart. “Shh… it’s okay.” 

He didn’t hear himself sob, but he simply let himself be soothed, be protected by his Rhodey.  

* * *

 

 

 

 

The others were all on the communal floor when he came up a few minutes later, which brings us back to the beginning: the biggest incident of the night. 

“Why the hell are you worrying so much anyway, Steve? Knowing him, he’s probably at a cathouse or something. He’ll be back in the middle of the night or tomorrow morning, completely drunk off his ass. You know, the usual.” That was Barton’s voice.  He didn’t sound hostile, he didn’t sound like he was screaming. The words came out casually, but not any less hurtful.  

Tony froze in his tracks, debating whether or not he should go inside and watch as everyone snapped their mouths shut and pretended to be doing something else. Anything to make them seem less guilty. But he stayed outside the door, listening, and in a way, grieving. 

“He wouldn’t do that, Clint.” Steve. There was a resigned tone in his voice, as if he didn’t want to believe the archer, but still wouldn’t be surprised if Tony  _ was _ actually at a cathouse getting piss-poor drunk. “You can’t always assume the worst of him because of your grudge.” 

“Oh come on, Steve. You’ve seen the news stories from before. You know what he’s like. There’s no point sweating over it. We all know exactly what he’s been doing all night.” That was Wanda. Harsh words from her were to be expected. 

Didn’t mean it didn’t make him feel any less like being sucker punched in the gut.  

“Yeah man, it’s not like anyone’s missing him either.” Clint again. 

“You guys make me sick sometimes, you know?” That was Sam. “How much do you actually know about the guy? How do you know he isn’t in danger?” 

Wanda scoffed. “Sucks for him.” 

“Can you all just stop?” Steve commanded, his voice raised. 

Silence. 

Yeah. Big mistake on Tony’s part. 

At times like this, he wished for Bruce. Maybe even Thor. With Bruce, he could spend the rest of the night talking about science things with him, and pretty soon, he’d forget the deep, roiling hurt that was now pooled in his stomach. With Thor, he could spend time listening to the God’s stories about his times on Asgard, and what it was like growing up with Loki. Those stories always made him laugh, especially the one about Loki turning into a snake. 

Neither of them were here, though. He was alone. 

Rhodey had to go back to D.C. so that he’d be ready for his next wave of physical therapy, but he did tell him to call the second he needed him. Tony thought about turning his phone on, he thought about calling his friend and begging him to turn around and stay with him for the night because he didn’t think… he didn’t think he’d be able to survive the night while feeling so alone. 

But he couldn’t get himself to move. 

He knew he could go inside and seek out Steve, ask him to big spoon him, wrap his warm arms around him so that he could feel safe and secure. But then he thought about the disappointment he had heard in Steve’s voice, the utter, heartbreaking belief that Tony was really that pathetic, and it broke him. 

So he stayed frozen for a few more seconds, breathing heavily, before he realized that he had to get out of the Compound. He had to leave. 

A strange, scary thought that had simmered in the back of his mind for far too long finally came to the forefront: maybe less lives would be ruined if he… if he just disappeared. 

When Tony finally turned to go, mind made up and heart heavy, a red haired assassin slipped out of the common room. “Hey,” she said softly. 

Tony stayed silent, his back still to Natasha. 

“I don’t know how much you heard, but… they didn’t mean it.” A pause. “Steve’s really worried about you. We’ve all been really worried.” 

“Doesn’t sound like it.” Tony whispered, trying to keep the stinging in his eyes from spilling over. 

“Tony--” 

“Natasha, can you tell me--” he turned slowly, not bothering to hide the bruises on his neck and wrist, both of which Natasha noticed, but didn’t say a word about, “--can you tell me if… if I faded away, would anyone… would anyone  _ really  _ care?” 

There was a pause for several seconds. “You can’t think like that Tony. You’re a superhero, you’re Iron Man. The world needs you to be strong.”

“The world also hates me.” 

Silence, once more. 

“But you’re right,” Tony started again, sniffing and shaking his head, “I should just get over it.”

* * *

 

 

 

 

It was somewhere around 1 A.M. when he left the Compound yet again. 

There was a small lake on an empty road only he knew about. On the rare moments he would get time, he would visit the small body of water in the middle of the night, take off his shoes, wade in, and float on his back, trying to find any stars in the sky. 

When he was a child, his mother told him that loved ones who passed away are always present in the form of a star.   

This night, Tony didn’t go out too far into the water, but he stayed at the edge, letting his bare feet be licked by the small laps of water. 

Eventually he laid down, letting the rush of cold sweep over his head, drowning out the noises of the harsh world that never loved him. 

“ _ Ti vedo, mamma.”  _ He whispered against the frosty air towards the first faint star he saw.  _ “Ti vedo.”  _

He drove for around an hour, eventually ending up in New Jersey. He pulled up to an average looking hotel and checked in. 

He took a small bag with him. There was nothing in it, really, except for a set of clean clothes, water, and a bottle of pills. 

It took a second for his phone to turn on. The battery was really low, almost dead. 

“FRIDAY?” Tony asked. 

_ “Yes boss?”  _

“Run through everything by me one more time.” 

_ “There are the correct amount of packets laid out on your workshop table, all of them in plain sight for the team to see. Your will is prepared and will be sent to your lawyer in the morning. Peter Parker will be sent a video recording of you in the morning as well, along with his new suit. Colonel Rhodes, Pepper Potts, and Happy Hogan will also receive messages such as these. As for Steve Rogers--” _

“It’s in the packet.” 

_ “Yes, it is.”   _

He had changed into a set of new clothes and was now sitting on the bed. His eyes were red and puffy, his limbs were limp with exhaustion. His heart beat in his chest, but it felt more as if it was throbbing. 

Tony closed his eyes, the pill bottle shaking in his hand. 

_ “Boss?”  _

“Yeah?” 

_ “There’s still time to think about this. You don’t have to do this.”  _

“I’m sorry, FRIDAY.” A pause. “Could you call Rhodey for me?” 

His phone was almost dead. 

“What’s up Tones? You alright?” 

Silence. He tried opening his mouth, but nothing came out. 

“Tony? Hello?” 

“Not really.” Tony’s voice broke as he gripped the phone to his ear. After spending a whole night trying to repress the inevitable, the tears finally spilled over. 

“What’s wrong, bud?”  

“I… I don’t--”

“Where are you?” 

“I’m really tired, Rhodey. I tried so hard… but the whole world… that man groped me, Rhodey. But he had a son. He had a--” He broke off, beginning to sob. “He was going to do more, but the police came. And the… the worst part is… I think I deserved it. Whatever he was going to do to me, I think I… I think I deserved it. I ruined their life. I always ruin people’s lives.” 

Silence. “Where are you, Tony? Tell me where you are, hon. I’ll come get you, alright. I’ll come get you.” 

“I’m really tired. I just want to sleep.” 

“I get that, honey, I do. But you have to let me know where you are, okay? Tony?” 

He put the phone on speaker, wanting so much to let Rhodey be the last voice he heard. “I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, you hear me? Now you listen to me. You’re going to tell me where you are so that I can come find you. Then, we’re going to go to Malibu, alright? You, me, Pepper, and Happy. Just the four of us like it used to be. We’re going to go to the beach and drive along Cali State Rt. 1. We can leave all of this behind us. We can start over.  _ You  _ can start over. Okay?” 

Tony sighed, shuddering as he dropped the empty pill bottle and bottle of water onto the floor. The covers were warm and heavy as he dove beneath them and curled up on his side. 

“I love you, Rhodey,” he whispered. 

There was rough movement on the other end. Then, a shuddering voice responded. “I love you too, Tony.” 

He cut the call and put his phone on the nightstand. 

It took about five minutes for him to become drowsy. His mind was empty. In a way, he felt reborn almost. 

Right as Tony rode the line between awake and asleep, he found what he was looking for: the inevitable exit, the beginning of a chance for him to become a star himself. 

_ “Ti vedo, mamma.”  _

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated! I will try to have a sequel to Love and Other Drugs up as soon as I can.


End file.
